


Love on an Airship

by lavendertruffles



Category: Parasol Protectorate - Gail Carriger
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, Complete, F/F, Femslash, Lesbian Character, One Shot, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4423448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendertruffles/pseuds/lavendertruffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Alexia and Genevieve are on an airship together at some point in <i>Blameless</i> (when Lord Maccon wasn’t speaking to Alexia) and grow a bit closer. Alexia is a bit braver, Genevieve takes a bit more initiative, and they wind up more involved than they had intended. That’s it. That’s the plot, or lack thereof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love on an Airship

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Please pardon the Americanisms and slight historical inaccuracies.  
> Content Warnings/considerations/etc: Alexia’s still married to Lord Maccon but they’re going through the separation process. This fic hasn't been beta'd or proofread.

Alexia sighed and leaned forward against the railing of the dirigible. It was easy to feel very lonely with the cool of the evening and crisp breeze. She missed being wrapped up in warm arms, even if she wasn’t very keen on making nice with Conall just then (not that he would listen). It was late to be out of her cabin, but she felt completely alone and the possibility of being around people was supposed to help. Unfortunately it was quiet on deck and the cloud cover was making her miserable. “What a mess I’ve gotten myself into,” she muttered.  
  
“It happens. A woman without her husband’s support? You’re in a pickle,” Genevieve said.  
  
“You startled me!” Alexia said, turning to face her. She tried to conceal her embarrassment. “I’m sure that I’ll manage.” It was difficult to decide whether Genevieve was amused or genuinely concerned about her current plight.  
  
“Honestly, you’re not as mature as you think you are— it’s not an insult either. You went from your family’s home straight into a marriage and haven’t had a chance to do a bit of growing up. You haven’t spent any time living on your own,” Genevieve told her.  
  
“Madame Lefoux, I assure you that I’m a perfectly capable woman and very much an adult. Marriage is what adult women do after all,” Alexia told her. It seemed Genevieve was concerned in her own way, even if it seemed a bit condescending. “It’s hardly an impediment. It’s my husband that needs growing up.”  
  
“Adult women get married, huh?” Genevieve asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Though I do agree that husband of yours does need to grow up, even more so than you.” It was undeniable that the sentiment came partly out of jealousy, but he was being childish over the entire situation with Alexia.  
  
“Oh you know what I mean. You hardly…  you don’t really count. As a woman I mean,” Alexia said. Why were they always like oil and water? She knew as she said it that it wasn't right, yet they never seemed to quite understand each other. “At least not a lady.”  
  
“Ah, but my dear Alexia, I’m every bit as much of a woman as you are— I’m a different sort of woman than you, but still very much a woman if you hadn’t noticed,” she said, cupping her cheek. Being considered different from other women was grating, but Alexia was still incredibly endearing so she let the comment slide without too much confrontation. It was easier to be playful and keep a certain levity (and far easier on Alexia).  
  
Alexia blushed, bothered by how very familiar the French woman was yet still leaning in closer to her. It made her feel very warm. “You’re capable of acting like a man though— you have your own shop and wear their fashions,” she pointed out.  
  
“Surely you don’t think that clothes make a woman or a man,” Genevieve said, taking Alexia’s hand in both of hers.  
  
“No. I suppose not, but it’s very inappropriate.  A proper lady like myself or Ivy couldn’t possibly dress in men’s clothing at all,” Alexia said.  
  
“See? You are terribly young— if not in age then in heart. You care entirely too much about what is proper,” Genevieve said with a grin. She leaned against the railing, giving Alexia a bit more space as she looked as if she might faint from her terribly heterosexually induced panic. Her breathing was certainly heavier.  
  
“That’s not a sign of youthfulness at all— it’s just proper behavior. I can’t. Oh, I shouldn’t be saying any of this at all. Can’t say it,” Alexia said.  
  
“Because it wouldn’t be proper?” Genevieve asked, dimples showing as she grinned.  
  
Alexia’s hands tightened on the railing of the ship. “Precisely,” she said.  
  
“I don’t think that you have to be concerned about being so proper with me,” Genevieve told her. By her very nature, she was constantly at odds with what was considered propriety.  
  
“Yes. Well, you French women don’t seem to care that much about what people think—it’s a cultural thing, I’m sure, but it’s an incredibly unfortunate habit,” Alexia said.  
  
Genevieve laughed. “I assure you that it’s not merely my being French that has me so forward with you,” she said.  
  
Alexia frowned, looking puzzled.  
  
“ _Ma femme, tu es tres naif_ ,” Genevieve told her.  
  
“What does that mean?” Alexia asked.  
  
Genevieve smiled and lifted out a few delicate violets she had in her lapel, holding them out to Alexia. “It means you’re terribly naive, my _femme_ ,” she said.  
  
“Oh. Thank you for the flowers. But I’d really like to hear the translation since I don’t speak french,” Alexia said, misunderstanding entirely. She twirled the violets between her fingers, brows knitting.  “And what does femme mean?”  
  
A small laugh escaped Genevieve. “There’s no translation for that— it just is what it is,” she told her, pressing a small kiss to her lips.  
  
It would be prudent to ignore the kiss for now— that was the only sensible response although Alexia really didn’t understand why Genevieve was being so terribly affectionate at the moment. (Or at least she feigned a lack of understanding. She knew that she was lying to herself). “I’d still like to know approximately what it means,” Alexia said, still managing to affect a coquettish manner, doing an excellent impression of Ivy. She was failing at lying to herself.  
  
“Perhaps we should discuss it more privately in my rooms?” Genevieve suggested, her voice dropping to a whisper.  
  
“Oh! No, I couldn’t possibly— I absolutely could not. Could not do that. It would be improper. Everyone would think–– they would think certain things about us,” Alexia said. She glanced around, making sure that no one was listening to their conversation. They’d had issues with spying and anyone could overhear!  
  
“Perhaps you’re not quite as naive as I thought,” Genevieve said, watching her be flustered in spite of the deliberate flirting she was doing only a moment ago. “I wouldn’t do that with you. Unless you were interested, of course.”  
  
“That’s very forward,” Alexia said, nearly speechless. She wasn’t sure whether she was excited or if she should have toned her own flirtation down. She didn’t know what she was doing. Why did Genevieve have to be so interesting?  
  
“Normally I’m not so forward— I’ll admit that. It’s very important not to disturb a delicate lady’s sensibilities. You, however, are not so very delicate. It would make your friend Ivy  And I am very interested. I wouldn’t ordinarily go out of my way to ask–– usually other women like me generally catch on that I’m interested, and ask me themselves. I’m a bit more reticent about asking. It’s just not the way it’s done,” Genevieve said, somehow managing to keep from looking as nervous as she felt. “But you never would have asked me.”  
  
Alexia still looked as if she may faint from the very suggestion, clutching at the railing of the dirigible. She shut her eyes and covered her face with one hand, yet peeked between her gloved fingers at Genevieve. Could she have more with Genevieve? It seemed so completely impossible.  
  
“And I may have been wrong about how delicate your sensibilities were,” Genevieve said, taking a nervous step back, not quite tripping over herself. She stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and scuffed her feet against the wooden flooring. “I just— I was very interested and you are a very good friend. I don’t really want you upset with me or to hate me.”  
  
“I couldn’t hate you,” Alexia reassured her quickly, resting her hand on one of Genevieve’s arms.Contact seemed very imporant at that moment as Genevieve had disengaged very rapidly. She liked their familiarity even if it were somewhat improper. She hadn’t seen the French woman appear that unsure of herself or vulnerable.  
  
“I’m glad. I’ll just go to my rooms and we can forget I ever asked— if you’ll be polite enough to grant me that kindness,” Genevieve said.  
  
“Of course,” Alexia said.  
  
“But if you do need help, please don’t hesitate to ask. You may have been a spinster, and spinsters end up with a lot of difficulties–– but if you find that you can’t rely on your family, a woman completely on her own has a very difficult time I’ll help as much as I can,” Genevieve told her.  
  
“Thank you. You’re a very good—” the word friend seemed terribly rude given her recent confession of interest, like rubbing salt into a wound, “—I really do appreciate it. It’s very kind of you.”  
  
“I should go back to my room.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“The word _femme_ , you know, doesn’t really translate, or rather the literal translation wasn’t appropriate for what I meant,” Genevieve remarked offhandedly. “Literally translated it just means ‘woman.’ It’s not the translation that’s important, but rather what  it means in other contexts.”  
  
“What does else does it mean?” Alexia asked.  
  
Genevieve smiled and shook her head, heading back to her room. Her attempt at redirecting the conversation and attempted departure was an unspoken invitation.  
  
If Alexia weren’t so fond of the irritating inventor she would have found the unnecessary air of mystery absolutely infuriating. Instead, she found herself following Genevieve. She was still wavering over whether she wanted to be talked into more with Genevieve. Alexia knew Genevieve was interested, but it all seemed so unfathomable.  
  
“I thought you weren’t going to follow me to my rooms,” Genevieve tossed teasingly over her shoulder.  
  
“You didn’t answer my question. I’m very put out with you,” Alexia said, even if she didn’t sound irritated in the slightest.  
  
“Maybe it’s best to leave you wondering,” Genevieve told her as she reached the door to her cabin. "It doesn't fit anyway."  
  
“Confound you! Just tell me,” Alexia said, stamping her foot.  
  
“I might if you come in,” Genevieve said, dimples showing with her grin.  
  
Alexia glanced at the room but made no move for the door.  
  
Genevieve was quiet for a moment. When she did speak, it was quieter and almost filled with a sigh. “Goodnight,” she said, her shoulders seeming to slump.  
  
“Wait.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
Alexia hesitated. “Could I step inside for a moment?” she asked.  
  
Genevieve hadn’t anticipated that. The coyness, flirting and banter was nice, but she hadn’t expected it to go much further. Her curiosity about Alexia and exactly how interested the other woman was in her was piqued. Yet there was a chance that this was nothing.  
  
“Of course,” Genevieve told her, letting her inside.  
  
Alexia smiled in spite of a bit of trepidation (what would people think?) and glanced around. Genevieve lit the oil lamp beside the bed, filling the room with a yellowed glow. The room was the same as Alexia’s but with Genevieve’s possessions (including some very interesting mechanical devices, some paper, and exquisitely tailored clothes) strewn throughout.  
  
“This looks so improper,” Alexia muttered, though at this point she seemed to be just saying it rather than meaning it.  
  
“It certainly isn’t ladylike of you,” Genevieve said.  
  
“I thought you said that you were still a lady and that— oh bother. You said that this sort of thing didn’t make one less of a woman,” Alexia said.  
  
“It doesn’t make one less of a woman but it’s hardly ladylike behavior,” Genevieve joked. The quips helped cover the nervousness that she felt.  
  
Alexia worried at her lip at that, brows knitted.  
  
“I’m being facetious, dear. I know this is important to you. It will be perceived of unladylike— but don’t worry. I don’t think anyone will think a married woman such as yourself is anything like me,” Genevieve assured her.  
  
Alexia sighed. What if she did want to be like Genevieve? Not entirely of course, but she couldn’t deny that Genevieve’s familiarity with her and their closeness made her wonder what it would be like to have more with her.  
  
“I think I’m fine if there’s not too much gossip,” Alexia said quietly. “But I do want something that’s not very ladylike at all.”  
  
“You’re my friend and I don’t mind if you’re not a proper lady with me. I wouldn’t tell a soul,” Genevieve told her.  
  
Lips curled upward in a smile at the irony of the statement. Since she was the only soulless person that she knew, it didn’t seem necessary to clarify that she wouldn’t tell soulless people either. She rested her head on Genevieve's shoulder. Her heart was beating faster.  
  
“I think I’d like a goodnight kiss,” Alexia whispered. It occurred to her that friends often weren’t nearly so close— even if it were a very French act, she couldn’t imagine kissing Ivy on the mouth.  
  
Genevieve hesitated. She leaned in and kissed Alexia more firmly than she had earlier, holding her close even with the underskirts of the dress getting in the way.  
  
Alexia parted her lips. It took a moment but Genevieve deepened the kiss. They both held onto each other tightly grasping at layers of fabric. The fabric of Genevieve’s clothes were so nicely woven, decadently expensive and so perfectly tailored (Did she tailor them herself? Alexia spent a decent amount of time admiring her clothing— and perhaps what lay _under_ the grey and subtle blue fabric.)  
  
Her heart and her mind were racing. She was acutely aware that she had somehow managed to be in Genevieve Lefoux’s arms at night and in her rooms at that. Somehow it didn’t feel like this was possible— that she had gotten herself into a mess and that this absolutely could not be reality. At the same time, she didn’t exactly want to pull away. She had been deliberate about it, in spite of the affected obliviousness earlier, this  was serious.  
  
She pulled away slowly.  
  
“I’m married,” Alexia whispered, dropping some of the façade of mere dalliance and genuinely considering the seriousness of the situation.  
  
“I know,” Genevieve said, her expression unreadable.  
  
“Even if I weren’t married, is it even possible to like both men and women?” Alexia asked.  
  
“The important question is not whether it’s possible or not but rather if _you_ are interested in both,” Genevieve told her. Of course Alexia knew that it was possible. It was merely her stodgy adherence to keeping with certain traditional values that made her uncertain.  
  
Alexia hid her face in the crook of Genevieve's neck. “I’m married,” she repeated.  
  
“I know. I  need help— falling for a married woman. It’s the worst of luck,” Genevieve said forlornly, even as she rubbed Alexia’s back soothingly. “Unrequited at that.”  
  
“Not necessarily,” Alexia said flustered.  
  
Genevieve tilted Alexia’s chin up, eyeing her speculatively. “You mean to say that you are interested?”  
  
Alexia ducked her head down against Genevieve’s chest, embarrassed. She sighed when arms wrapped around her, not sure whether to feel reassured or not.  
  
“Even if I joked about sharing a bed with you tonight, I think my heart would hurt too much to do that were you not interested beyond just curiosity,” Genevieve said quietly— so quietly that Alexia wasn’t sure that she was meant to hear it.  
  
“I am interested. There’s nothing to be done about it though. We’ll have to simply ignore the feelings like the well mannered people that we are,” Alexia decided.  
  
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Genevieve told her quietly, letting her arms drop and stepping back. “I think you should go now.”  
  
“But—”  
  
“If you change your mind, my room is always open,” she told her. “Goodnight Alexia. I think it’s time for bed.”  
  
“I… all right,” Alexia said quietly, her voice catching. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to leave.  
  
There was a quiet pause that seemed to last entirely too long with both women refusing to look at each other.  
  
When the door clicked shut behind Alexia, Genevieve sighed and sat down on her bed, mulling everything over.

* * *

 

  
Alexia stood at Genevieve’s door, tentatively knocking. They hadn’t been aloof with each other the past couple days, but they hadn’t been as close as they usually were either. Alexia missed the closeness. The airship was going to arrive in France the next day. Being on the airship made anything feel possible; they were so far removed from the the earth and seemingly the rest of their normal lives that it was hard for Alexia to stay grounded. She needed this.  
  
She could just picture Ivy’s reaction. She would think it was all very dramatic. Even if Ivy did enjoy the dramatic... Potentially leaving a husband! She would never hear the end of it, especially when she had been a spinster for so long!  
  
Genevieve opened the door, looking at Alexia speculatively.  
  
“I wanted to see you,” Alexia told her.  
  
“You saw me earlier,” Genevieve told her, though her dimples were just barely showing with the suppressed smile.  
  
“I know,” Alexia said, fiddling with her parasol nervously.  
  
“Want to come in?” Genevieve asked.  
  
Alexia nodded stiffly and leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Genevieve’s lips.  
  
Genevieve looked startled but stepped aside to let Alexia in her room.  
  
“Even though I am interested, it’s utterly impossible,” Alexia started in, setting her parasol in the corner. “I’m married and even if he’s not speaking to me at the moment, it’s not proper. Can you imagine the scandal? Oh, and just... I couldn’t possibly while I’m married, and I hadn’t planned on divorce although I suppose it’s inevitable. That’s unthinkable!” Alexia said. “Not to mention that I’m pregnant.”  
  
“I assure you that I’m very aware of the potential for scandal,” Genevieve said. “I’m very accustomed to that.”  
  
“I suppose you would be, but I am not,” Alexia told her. “I don’t know if I can cope with the scandal.”  
  
“My _raison d’être_ just might be to scandalize you,” Genevieve said, grinning. It was certainly fun when Alexia took it well. “I don’t mind keeping it a private matter for your safety’s sake. And you aren’t currently on speaking terms with your husband. That’s hardly much of a commitment. I daresay it’s not immoral.” In spite of arguing for just the now— the present— there was still hope for more and for the future.  
  
“Outside of wedlock it is,” Alexia protested.  
  
“Am I immoral?” Geneveive questioned.  
  
Alexia gaped for a second. “No, no, no. That’s different. You can’t actually— it’s a different situation entirely,” she said.  
  
“Not so very different from the one you’re currently in, now is it?” Genevieve asked. “Especially if you end up divorcing him.”  
  
Alexia let out an indelicate noise of frustration, tucking against Genevieve again and clutching at her blouse. “It is different. I don’t think it would be that terribly immoral, but it isn’t proper. I can’t,” Alexia told her.  
  
Genevieve held her tighter, wishing she could come up with words that would dissolve any of Alexia’s worries. She nearly hated Lord Maccon in that moment.  
  
“I don’t even understand how I like you— why I like you. I shouldn’t. I do though, even if you’re not proper and don’t mind scandal. I think you’re very selfish,” Alexia said.  
  
“Selfish for living the best I can?” Genevieve asked, bemused. Alexia often caught her off guard and seemed to come to completely ridiculous conclusions.  
  
“You are,” Alexia insisted. “Very selfish. There are rules about proper behavior for a reason.” It would tear Lord Maccon up. She wasn’t sure that she cared at the moment. Everything was so very complicated.  
  
“I know how to be discreet,” Genevieve reminded her. She wasn’t about to fight with her over world views. “Especially if you’re worried about even more scandal. It’s not selfish— and if it is then it’s only a little bit selfish. It’s not exactly in my best self interest to be so overly fond of a married woman, but I am.” She didn’t want to think about the inevitability of heartache.  
  
“What if I know what I want right now, but don’t know about the future?” Alexia asked tentatively.  
  
“Then I’ll have to just be satisfied with the present,” Genevieve said quietly, still hoping against hope that Alexia did love her enough for this to work. It felt incredibly foolish but she did love her friend. She had to hope.  
  
Alexia nodded. She pressed a hesitant kiss to Genevieve's neck just above her shirt collar. “You wouldn’t feel that I’m taking advantage of you?” she asked quietly. She wasn’t sure what she was doing at all.  
  
“Certainly not— although I wouldn’t mind if you did take advantage of me,” Genevieve murmured. “May I kiss you properly now.”  
  
“I should think so,” Alexia told her with a smile that almost looked shy.  
  
Genevieve cupped her cheek and this time kissed her with tongue.  
  
The first time Lord Maccon had been so bold, Alexia had been shocked. She was just as shocked this time with Genevieve doing it, even having been prepared ahead of time. She grasped at Genevieve’s waistcoat, slowly leaning into the kiss. This all still felt incredibly improper but then she wasn’t often completely well mannered (though not for a lack of trying).  
  
“Let me help you out of your dress,” Genevieve murmured against her lips.  
  
“Now?” Alexia squeaked.  
  
Genevieve raised an eyebrow. “You’re wearing bloomers and a corset aren’t you? You’ll be perfectly covered but much freer to move about and more comfortable. I don’t expect to get you entirely nude–– unless you would like to be,” she said.  
  
“Perhaps not entirely. Not at the moment, at least, but you can help me out of the dress,” Alexia decided. The layers of fabric were difficult to navigate— she had a point.  
  
Genevieve smiled and deftly undid buttons and lacing on her dress. She eased it off and hung it carefully, placing Alexia’s hat with it.  
  
“ _Tiens,_ ” she said admiringly once Alexia was only in her chemise, corset, and bloomers. She ran her hands over Alexia’s arms, her gaze lingering on her. She fiddled with the chantilly lace at her bodice.  
  
Alexia raised an eyebrow, her cheeks a dusky rose with a blush. She couldn’t help but feel a little flattered by the interest.  
  
“You look nice,” Genevieve told her. Although Alexia never quite looked austere, she looked softer somehow out of her dress (her clothing choices were questionably plain at times).  
  
“Thank you. What if I do want to go back to my room at some point though?” Alexia asked.  
  
“Then I’ll help you dress again. We’ll take care so that no one becomes suspicious of anything,” Genevieve told her, kissing her again.  
  
It was different than kissing Conall. Genevieve was far more gentle, though Alexia suspected that she could kiss her harder if she chose to do so.  
  
Genevieve tugged Alexia to her bed, sitting down with her on her lap.  
  
“I’m not squishing you am I?” Alexia asked worriedly. “You’re not as strong as Lord Maccon and—”  
  
“I don’t want to hear about Lord Maccon while I’m kissing you, and I can assure you that you’re perfectly fine,” Genevieve told her firmly, nibbling at her neck.  
  
Alexia nodded, squirming a bit in her lap. When she went to untie her cravat she floundered over where to put her arms and hands. There seemed to be more very personal places on another woman, though after some consideration it was really just her breasts. She untied the cravat, with as much respectable distance as she could manage given the impropriety of undressing a woman enough to be able to kiss her neck.  
  
Genevieve undid the first few buttons on her blouse, assisting Alexia though she was sure that she could have managed by herself were she not caught up with worrying about it.  
  
“You know, you can look,” Genevieve told Alexia, noticing her distinct lack of looking at where the shirt was opened. “I’m only as exposed as you are— much less really.”  
  
“I know,” Alexia breathed, now looking more intentionally (she had only snuck a few glances before). She wanted to be closer, but she was still fixated on the propriety of it all.  
  
Genevieve shifted and pressed Alexia down against the bed, kissing her neck softly. “You’re going to end up thinking about it too much, my little bluestocking,” she murmured, partly because she herself didn’t want to think about it too much either.  
  
“I can’t help it,” Alexia murmured, tilting her head back to give Genevieve more access to her neck. “I have to think about it.”  
  
“I can stop and let you think about it,” Genevieve murmured just under her ear, lips brushing against her skin as she spoke. She didn’t want any lingering doubts.  
  
“No, don’t stop,” Alexia said quickly.  
  
The gasp that Genevieve caused when she parted Alexia’s thighs with one of her own made her smirk.  She held her closer as she rubbed her thigh against Alexia’s bloomers. Her hips pressed upwards against her thigh, squirming beneath her.  
  
Alexia couldn’t help the whimper she made when Genevieve kissed over her ample breasts. “What if someone hears us?” she asked, though her tone was breathy. “I couldn’t stand the idea of someone hearing us.”  
  
“Then you must be quiet,” Genevieve said with a smile. “Sit up and I’ll unlace your corset— you likely need it undone.”  
  
“Yes, I do feel a bit faint,” Alexia agreed. She was breathless from Genevieve’s attention. She sat up, turning so that Genevieve could unlace her.  
  
Genevieve dipped her head, kissing Alexia’s shoulder and neck as she undid the lacing.  She paused when she had it mostly undone pressing kisses along Alexia’s spine as she undid her own shirt the rest of the way.  
  
When she had set her shirt aside and placed Alexia’s corset out of the way she pressed her breasts against her back, hands tracing up along her sides.  
  
Alexia shivered, her cheeks hot. It took her a moment but she turned around, looking at Genevieve’s thinner form. “I hadn’t really seen another woman unclothed before,” she said.  
  
“Hopefully it’s a nice sight,” Genevieve said, although she sounded a bit nervous that Alexia might not find her appealing.  
  
Rather than answering, Alexia placed the first tentative kisses over Genevieve’s neck and shoulders. Her face reddened as bare skin touched— oh what Ivy would say if she knew about this? It seemed indecent to be tangled together in nothing but bloomers and trousers, yet Genevieve seemed softer and strangely beautiful while completelyl disheveled like this. She brushed her hands up over smaller breasts, her touches tentative.  
  
Genevieve breathed shakily and held Alexia closer. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of her bloomers, tugging them down and off.  
  
Alexia could only try to stifle her gasp when Genevieve’s hand slid downwards, fingertips brushing over her thighs.  
  
“Is this okay?” Genevieve murmured, fingers tracing back up and through curls.  
  
“Yes,” Alexia whispered, pressing up to her hand.  
  
Genevieve dimpled at that and peppered kisses over her breasts. Alexia squirmed underneath her, grasping tightly at her shoulders. She was so frustratingly gentle with the kisses. She was too gentle. Before Alexia could muster up the nerve to say anything (after all, Genevieve was more experienced in these matters–– it was difficult to believe she could correct her at all) she had started sucking and nipping in a way that made Alexia clench her thighs around one of Genevieve’s legs.  
  
It occurred to her that the too gentle teasing had been purposeful. “Don’t tease me,” she said, although it was punctuated with a small moan.  
  
That earned a wide grin from Genevieve.  “That’s part of the fun,” she said, her words mixed with a breathy laugh. She pecked Alexia’s lips, brushing her fingertips lightly over her skin.  
  
“I don’t want teased. I want more, now,” Alexia said with a pout. She wasn’t terribly put out, she just felt woefully inexperienced. Genevieve did care for her; she knew that. It just was very difficult to know what was going through the other woman’s mind at any given moment. She kept her off balance.  
  
“Then I won’t tease you,” Genevieve said with a small smile. She lightly tapped at her knees.  
  
Alexia slid them away from each other, placing her hands over her warm cheeks in embarrassed excitement as Genevieve slid between them. She couldn’t help shivering at the feel of her breath ghosting over her thighs, feeling simultaneously hot and like a chill against her skin.  
  
Her hands grasped at Genevieve’s hair as warm lips and tongue delved between her legs, a shaky moan escaping her. Her tongue swept teasingly over her clit before she sat up just enough to look at Alexia.  
  
Genevieve slipped two fingers into her mouth before drawing them back out. Alexia could see the sheen of wet glistening in the yellowed light from the oil lamp beside the bed. Her breath hitch as Genevieve’s fingers pressed and curved inside her.  
  
Alexia really made the most delightful throaty moans; they caused Genevieve’s toes to curl.  
  
The soft whispered french words of encouragement and affection were entirely lost on Alexia who could only whimper and press to her fingers. The passion in her tone (even if she only caught the meaning of a few of the words) made her contemplate ‘what ifs’ between them, yet she pushed aside those thoughts, wanting to only focus on the present.  
  
When Genevieve’s tongue brushed over her clit again, she couldn’t think about anything else.  
  
She clutched at her hair and the bedsheets. It was all too much and it wasn’t long before she was arching her back and crying out —  far more vocally than she would have intended had she had her senses about her.  
  
“ _Je t’aime, ma pette_ ,” Genevieve murmured, wrapping her arms around her and nuzzling against her neck.  
  
Alexia blushed, staying quiet. She was glad that Genevieve was tucked against her, eyelashes ticking against the sensitive skin on her neck, as she wasn’t sure what expression she had on her face. She knew what Genevieve had meant by that. It caused all sorts of problems. It was possible to say it back; she really could. She would mean it. Everything was so dreadfully complicated though.  
  
Genevieve sighed and rolled over onto her back beside her.  “Do you know what to do for me?” she asked. She was disinclined to take the role of a teacher, but was very patient.  
  
“Huh?” Alexia asked, confused.  
  
“I was assuming that you would return the favor,” she said, managing to look a bit sheepish.  
  
“Oh! That! Yes. I think so. There aren’t any special tricks to it, are there?” Alexia asked.  
  
Genevieve shook her head. “It’s just the same stuff that you would enjoy.”  
  
“I can manage that,” Alexia said with a smile. She straddled Genevieve’s hips, dipping down to kiss her tenderly. She fiddled with the button to her trousers. After a brief pause, she undid them and tugged them down, letting her fingertips brush over Genevieve’s thighs.  
  
“You won’t think that I’m silly if I do everything completely wrong?” Alexia asked.  
  
“I don’t think I would care even if you did do everything completely wrong, as long as you were the one doing it,” Genevieve admitted.  
  
Alexia smiled shyly. She pressed another more amorous kiss to Genevieve’s lips before dotting her neck with nibbles and plunging lower.

 

* * *

  
  
They both stirred early the next morning with light from the porthole streaming in the cabin of the airship. The cool air had them tucked close to each other under the blankets, needing the warmth. Eyes had fluttered open, but neither seemed to want to break the silence of the early morning. Everything seemed so endlessly perfect while they were far above the Earth.  
  
The first sounds of others on the ship moving around, footsteps on floorboard finally broke the silence.  
  
“I should get dressed,” Alexia mumbled sleepily against the pillow.  
  
“Do you want me to help you?” Genevieve asked quietly.  
  
Alexia nodded and sat up, slipping on her bloomers and chemise.  
  
Genevieve wrapped the corset around her, slowly doing up the lacing. “We’re landing today,” she told her.  
  
“I know,” Alexia said.  
  
“Would you like to stay in my room tonight in Paris?” Genevieve asked.  
  
“I wouldn’t mind rooming with you,” Alexia murmured.  
  
Genevieve grinned and kissed the back of her neck. She tugged the lacing taut and tied it.  She wasn’t sure where their relationship was going, but where they were at was nice.


End file.
